


After

by SegaBarrett



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will contemplates a new him in a new town, with a new partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hannibal, and I make no money from this.
> 
> A/N: for sevilemar
> 
> This is my first Hannigram fic...and I hope you like it! :D

Will began to think about the fact that he hadn’t taken it all into consideration. Not that this was unusual for him – he tended to feel his reactions rather than plan them. That didn’t mean he couldn’t make this work, however. All he needed was time. 

And time was something that they both had in spades. 

They were both cut up – it was hard to tell where Will’s blood ended and Hannibal’s began. 

That was an odd feeling. They were one; Will had known that for a long time now. Maybe he had been looking for this all of his life, or maybe it had been one of those things that just happened. 

He’d gone over the waterfall with him, and he’d had a plan in mind when he had done it. Or maybe it had just been an image, an image of Sherlock Holmes going over the edge with Moriarity. He had read that book once, a long time ago, and it was one of those things that had always stuck in his mind. There’d been a message there, something about sacrificing yourself to defeat evil.

He could have said that that had been his plan. He would no longer be Hannibal’s agency in the world, nor would Hannibal himself.

“Will? What are you thinking about?”

Will turned his head. It still hurt to move his neck, but he knew that would heal in a few days. It would all come into place.

When he’d gone over the waterfall, there had been something else going through his head as well. If Will Graham was presumed dead, who might rise from the ashes, anywhere he may want to find himself? 

That was a tempting offer, one that he hadn’t truly been able to explore before now – there had been too much, too many people, holding him back.

Now the only person holding him was Hannibal Lecter, and that was a weird feeling, but a freeing feeling.

He remembered the way he had felt as he’d heard about Chilton’s fiery wheelchair rolling into the fountain, the little trill it had created in his throat. He had felt giddy, then guilty, and then he hadn’t know what he felt.

Two hearts, beating as one. Two hearts and one soul? Maybe he was the soul for both of them.

“I’m thinking about a lot of things, Hannibal,” Will told him. There was a little scrap on the edge of his cheek, and he ran his thumb over it, and then he raised his eyes to look right at him. There had been a time when he couldn’t look someone in the eyes, but it was hard to remember. It was as if it had been in a movie he had watched, or a book he had read.

“Penny for your thoughts, Will.”

Oh, Will thought, it would cost a lot more than that to get a hold of my thoughts.

“I’m thinking about you, Hannibal. Aren’t I always thinking about you?” 

He rose and walked to the bathroom; he splashed some water on his face. He needed time to think, or to not think, whatever it was he ultimately decided.

He must have counted to a hundred before he walked back into the room, took a breath, and told himself, “Your name is Will Graham. The time is…”

But he didn’t know how to answer the rest of that. Where were they, exactly? Down river, certainly. How long had it taken for them to get there?

Maybe that was the point of it all – they could be anyone here, they could reinvent themselves.

“Hannibal,” he said aloud. “Come here.”

Hannibal walked over. He had a small smirk on his face, and a gleam in his eye. He seemed to relish the order.

“My… we’re getting dominant, are we not, Will? Why, I remember that there used to be times when you…”

“I remember a lot of things,” Will told him. He took a deep breath. He had to stop thinking.

Freddie Lounds had called them murder husbands. Maybe this time, the Cassandra of the tabloids had gotten in right. Maybe Will just hadn’t wanted to listen at the time.

He put his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders and pulled him in. 

There were lips pressed to lips; Hannibal was biting him just a little bit and it sent a shiver up his spine. It was like playing with fire. He had been burned already, but why was it that the memory of the man sawing into his head gave him a strange kind of giddiness in this moment?

“Hannibal,” he whispered as soon as they broke the kiss. He ran his tongue over his lip. There was a little bit of blood. It was salty.

“What do we do now, Will? Where do we go from here?”

Hannibal was asking, but he must already have an answer. He always seemed to, after all. He was used to holding all the cards and simply watching the players go through the motions.

“You tell me, Hannibal.”

“We could live the way I live. We could glide like shadows from place to place, only taking in what is beautiful.”

“More Boticellis?” Will inquired.

“And more. There’s so much of the world I want to show you…”

“So many people you want to feed to me?” Will had intended to ask it as an accusation, but it came out sly and soft. 

Hannibal cupped his chin.

“Perhaps. Would you like to join me? We will have only the finest dishes.”

Will let out a tiny little giggle, and some voice inside him told him that this was it, he had finally lost it. He should be carted off somewhere…

No, Will told himself instead, I should confer with my psychiatrist.

That almost set him into another fit of laughter, and he stifled it by pressing his lips against Hannibal’s again. He let his mind turn to dark images that he had worked hard to put at the back of his mind for a long time now. 

He pushed Hannibal backwards, pinning him to the bed as he tried to remember again how they had gotten to this hotel; how no one had spotted them.

Maybe they had been spotted, and the entire staff was dead. That should have been a scary thought, a humbling thought, but it only pushed him onwards. He mashed his lips against Hannibal’s as he pictured them as the only people around for miles, the only ones left in a desolate wasteland. That would mean that they didn’t have to follow any rules, or they could make their own.

Will’s hands felt heavy against Hannibal’s shoulders. The other man was letting him pin him, letting him be in control. Were they still playing a game? Was this another manipulation? Would Will turn the corner and find himself yet again at Hannibal’s mercy?

He wasn’t sure; but for the first time, it didn’t matter.

“Show me the world,” he mumbled. “That’s… what we’ll do. Let’s start with this place – what is this place?”

He almost wished he wouldn’t get an answer – the reality of it might shatter the illusion; in his mind, this could be anywhere he wanted it to be.

“We’re in the Netherlands,” Hannibal said simply, and Will decided not to ask how they had gotten there, or if they were even really there at all. 

The Netherlands. It seemed as good a place to start anew as any. Wooden shoes and monuments and resistance museums. 

“Okay then,” Will said. He looked around the room and slowly pulled away from the other man.

He began to pace.

This is what it was like to be reborn. 

“I think we should make a plan,” Will began, “What we can do, what we should do – how we’re going to live.”

“A plan?” Hannibal asked from the bed. His eyes were circling Will with interest.

“Well, not a plan, exactly,” Will whispered. He looked out the window, then back at Hannibal. It felt like diving forward. “More like a design.”

**The End...?**


End file.
